


Larry No Swiping

by Elf (Elfwreck)



Category: Blue's Clues
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Family Friendly, Games, Gen, Humor, OC POV, Playing Blue's Clues, fairytale settings, home alone shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/pseuds/Elf
Summary: Steve goes away for the day, and Blue gets an unexpected and unwanted visitor. Fortunately, the household knows how to protect itself from pests.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 32
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Larry No Swiping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Always_Sundae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Sundae/gifts).



> Always_Sundae, this was a fun prompt to work with. I hope you enjoy it.  
> Many thanks for beta by the amazingly helpful Karios.

Larry "Lightfingers" Malone hid on the other side of the bushes as Steve said his goodbyes through the door. Larry didn't know who he was talking to, since the place had to be empty—nobody but Steve had gone in or out in days. But he did talk to his dog, so maybe that was it.

"I'll just be out for the day," Steve was saying. "Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper will get you lunch, and Tickety knows when you should take a nap. You can play outside with Shovel and Pail; just make sure Mailbox can see you. If I'm very late, Slippery Soap can make you a bubble bath before bedtime. And I've put up some of your favorite paintings so you can skidoo into them to meet your friends."

He paused, like he was listening, but all Larry could hear was the dog.

"I know it's sad, but it'll only be for a little while. I have to go take my college exams at the capitol, but I'll be back this evening. Are you worried? Oh, worried about being lonely. Yeah, me too. But you have lots of friends here. Okay. I'll miss you too."

And the dog barked some more. Dude must have been crazy; crazy people talked to a dog like that. But then, rich folks were allowed to be weird.

And he was rich. Last Halloween, he'd given out giant chocolate coins bigger than silver dollars, only they were wrapped in _real gold foil_. Real gold! That Steve guy just threw them into the pumpkin baskets, one after another, all night long! Larry'd managed to track down about six of the wrappers and those paid off most of his credit cards, but… there had to be so much more inside! 

He waited until Steve drove away, and then 20 more minutes, counting down on his wristwatch, for good measure. Then he slid on his mask and went up to the door. 

He got out his lockpicks and went to work. It wasn't a standard lock - not a Master Lock nor Kwikset nor Schlage. He'd never seen this kind of lock before. But hey, a lock was a lock; all you had to do was hit the tumblers in the right order and it'd open.

It did not open. He couldn't even tell if he was getting them at all. He rattled the doorknob but he couldn't feel the pins against the picks. Of course, it made sense that some ultra-rich guy's house had some kind of weird lock he'd never seen before. But maybe there was another way in. He started to circle the house, wondering if the back door had a different kind of lock...

The window! The window was _wide open!_ Who locked the door and left the window open? 

Larry crawled in through the window, but something bumped him and he tumbled onto the floor. It felt like he'd been pushed, but when he looked back, he didn't see anyone. Just the mailbox, a little closer to the house than he'd seen at first. Maybe he tripped on that. He stood up and looked around.

This house was _weird_. The furniture was too bright and mostly too small, and placed too far apart for any normal house. He started looking for drawers, shelves, cabinets… anywhere someone might store valuables. He did find a little side table with a drawer, low to the ground like it was for a kid. He tried to open it, but it kept snapping shut. It probably had some weird safety latch somewhere.

The house didn't seem like it had the plain box-shape rooms that he expected; it must have been built on some weird curves or something. He'd just walked from the living room to the kitchen and then into a bathroom (no door - that was beyond weird and right into creepy), but when he turned around, he found a door he must not have noticed. It led to a bedroom, not back to the kitchen.

Fine. The house was _creepy_ and that was why nobody had robbed the place yet. Larry was gonna be the first. He hadta find those gold-chocolate coins first, and then see what else was in here. He walked back through the… bedroom, not kitchen, with one person-sized bed and one dog-sized basket, and into a playroom with a bookshelf full of kiddie books and dog toys. 

Larry looked at the paintings, but none of them looked like real art. Not that he knew what real art looked like; he was more a gold-and-jewelry guy himself. Art values were all over the place and you could never tell whether something was a forgery, and besides, it was hard to transport. You could shove necklaces and watches in your pockets while you were running.

He was staring at a painting of a forest when he heard barking behind him.

A cute blue puppy was barking at him. Angrily. "Bau bau bau!"

"Hey there, little fella," he said. "Or is it little lady? Right, I heard you're a girl dog. What's your name?" 

The dog _growled_ at him. 

"Ah, don't be like that. Here, I brought you a treat!" Larry'd come prepared for a dog in the house. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky, waving it in front of the dog. 

The dog shook its head (could dogs do that?) and barked again. Then she lunged in and bit his pant leg; she started trying to drag him away. 

"Hey! None of that!" He wasn't going to put up with a dog biting him. He swatted at her, but she dodged and kept pulling at him. He turned around and kicked at her, but she ran, and he tripped, falling over a chair.

While he was getting up, the dog ran up and grabbed his hidden belt pack, the ultra thin one he used for stashing loot. She must've bitten down on just the right spot to unlatch it, and then she ran off with… his wallet, three sets of fake ID, his spare cash… he needed to catch her!

He ran through the house, chased her over furniture and around corners, knocked over tables and pushed aside shelves, but couldn't catch up with her. He banged his shin on a table close to the ground and when he bent over in pain, he heard a giggle just before he leaned into a huge cloud of pepper. (Who laughed at him? There was nobody here but the dog!)

"AAAHHH-CHOOO!" Larry sneezed, and jerked himself backward, banging his head on the wall. He was hurt, dizzy… and angry.

"Why you little—" he yelled as he lunged after the little blue dog. He chased her back through the kitchen and into the playroom, where she stopped and barked at the painting. He tried to slow down, to keep from crashing into her (and the bookshelf behind her), but he spotted a bar of soap that must've dropped on the floor. He thought he heard someone say "slow down!" but again, there was nobody around but the dog and the bar of soap.

He skidded on the suds, his legs wobbled back and forth as the dog barked, and suddenly, he was spinning.

"Whooaah!" he yelled as he fell, certain he was going to crash hard into the wall, but he didn't. Instead, he spun and floated _into the forest painting_ and that was… weird, creepy, and bad. 

Larry was in a freakin' _forest_ , like an actual little-red-riding-hood place full of huge trees and probably bears and tigers. He looked around, but didn't see the house _anywhere_. How the heck did he get here? More important, how could he get _back_?

"Hellooo?" he called out, hoping there was somebody around. He was on a path, so that probably went… somewhere? 

He heard the dog bark in the distance. She must know the way home, so he might as well go find her. Aaargh. He stomped after her. Fortunately, it wasn't long before he saw a house at the end of the path. Fine. He could use the phone there, and once he found out where he was, he could get out of here. 

The house was weird, just like Steve's house, all the wrong colors and shapes, but Larry was beyond caring about that. He just wanted to break in, find a phone, and get away. He would call 911 and tell them he got kidnapped or something, and they could trace the call and come get him. At this point, he didn't even care if they arrested him.

Larry was not expecting to come face-to-face with a BEAR.

Two bears. No, _three_ bears.

And an angry blue dog.

...Larry ran back into the woods, forgetting everything about wanting a phone. He crashed through the trees and stumbled when his clothes caught on branches, and when he ran through a pile of wet leaves, his legs shifted under him. He tried to catch his balance but fell hard—

—back into the playroom, where he skidded across the soapy floor, into an open trapdoor where he tumbled down some stairs into a dimly lit basement, bruising his arms and legs on the way down, and he landed with a nasty _thunk_ as his head hit the far wall.

The door slammed shut above him, and then he heard the sound of something heavy being pushed across it. The only remaining exit was a tiny window, way up high and too small to crawl through. He was stuck.

But at least he wasn't stuck in here with bears. Larry counted his blessings and decided to wait for whatever happened next.

🐾

Steve returned home in the early evening, his exams done, and was ready to have dinner with Blue and maybe have story-time after. When he opened the door, the house was in shambles. The little table was broken, and some of the paintings were tilted—one had been knocked off the wall entirely. Some shelves had been pushed around, and the bed looked like it had been trampled. 

"Blue! What _happened?_ " 

Blue tilted her head, and then bounded forward. "Bau bau bau!" She planted a big blue pawprint in front of Steve.

"Oh! You want to play _Blue's Clues_ to tell me what happened?" he asked, flashing his hands like pawprints.

Blue nodded and barked happily. 

"That's a great game; let's do that!" Steve did his happy "play _Blue's Clues_ " dance and song; it always made him feel better, even if there was obviously something very wrong. He picked up a roll of paper towels that had fallen on the floor, and wiped up the pawprint. He wouldn't want to make the house _more_ messy!

Then he visited Sidetable Drawer, who was turned to almost face the wall. "Sidetable Drawer! Do you know what happened today?"

"Not all of it," she said. "But I kept your notebook safe!" She opened up to show him, and he took it.

"Thanks, Sidetable Drawer! Now… Where should I look for my first clue? Hmmm…" Steve walked through the house, frowning at the mess, and paused near the front door. 

"Hey Mailbox! Got any mail for me today?" 

"I think you have a _special delivery_ today, Steve!" Mailbox said mysteriously. But he didn't hand over a letter, so Steve shrugged and went back to searching, overlooking the small set of tools that Larry had dropped near the window.

"A clue! A clue!" he heard in the distance. He looked out at the friends he knew were always watching him.

"A clue? You see a clue?" Steve checked carefully and spotted it: Blue's pawprint on a little black case holding a set of lockpicks. He snatched them up. "What's this? It looks like… lockpicks. We need to put this in our handy-dandy… notebook!"

Steve got out the notebook and crayon and muttered as he drew. "Handle… long stick… wiggly line ends…"

"There we go: lockpicks. So… what might have happened here, that involves lockpicks?" 

Steve nodded as he listened to suggestions, but decided, "I think we need to find more clues to be sure."

He followed Blue through the house until he reached the playroom, which was an even bigger mess than most of the house: Slippery Soap was sliding along in a puddle, the bookshelf was in the middle of the floor instead of against the wall, books were _everywhere_ … Steve sighed and sat down. 

"I think I'm going to take a break from clue-hunting and start to clean this up," he said, as he picked up books and put them back on the shelf. He moved aside the toys and clothing that he came across, until a voice interrupted him.

"A clue!"

"Oh, a clue? Where?" He looked around and saw it—he'd just set aside a beltpack with Blue's pawprint on it! He picked it up and looked at it. 

"Huh. This is…" he turned it over, unzipped it to look inside… "This is full of money. So… a beltpack with money in it. I guess we need our—notebook!" He whipped out the crayon and drew a sketch… "Square-ish bag with rounded corners on a belt, a zipper compartment, and a dollar sign on the front… there." 

"What could've happened that involved lockpicks, and a money bag?" Steve pondered for a moment, and then shook his head. "I guess we need one more clue to be sure." 

He finished putting the books back on the shelf, even though it was in the middle of the floor, and then stood up to push it back into its place against the wall. Steve looked around to check which wall it should go on… probably not the one with the painting…

"A clue! A clue!" his friends said.

"A clue? You see a clue?" Steve looked around the room, but he didn't see anything with Blue's pawprint. "Where is it?"

"There! In the painting!" 

"In the—" Steve peered into the painting, and sure enough, there was something with Blue's tiny pawprint, hanging on a branch. "I guess we need to skidoo into the painting to find it! C'mon, Blue!" Steve bent his elbows and knees as he sing-songed, "Blue-skidoo; we can too…" and fell into the painting.

Blue wagged her tail and followed him into the forest. Steve landed on his feet, as he usually did, and looked around. He saw footprints leading toward the Three Bears' house, and a large scattered pile of leaves, and—there it was! A bit of cloth, caught on a branch, with Blue's pawprint.

He picked it up and shook off the pawprint, which dissolved in the breeze. It was some kind of mask, which was meant to tie around the head. It looked like a traditional bandit mask. "I guess we need our…" he looked out to his friends, and heard an excited voice call out _Notebook_! 

"Yes! It's time for the handy-dandy notebook! Rectangle with a little divot for the nose… couple of eye holes… ties in the back… And there we have it: a mask!"

"That's our third clue, so now we're ready to figure out… Hey! That's our _third clue!_ I guess it's time for the… _Thinking Chair!_ We better skidoo back to the house so we can finish playing _Blue's Clues_!" 

Blue nodded, and away they went. Steve sat down in the Thinking Chair and flipped through the notebook. "Let's see… first we had a set of lockpicks… then a money bag… then a mask. So… what could happen with lockpicks, a money bag, and a mask, that might wind up with the house being such a mess?"

"Hmmm… who wears this kind of mask?" he pondered aloud.

"A bandit!" one voice called out. "A thief!" said another.

"That's right—a thief! And—" Steve looked at the other two pictures— "A thief would use all of these things! A thief carries lockpicks, and a money bag— is that the answer?"

Blue nodded cheerfully and barked loudly; Steve had figured it out!

"We just figured out _Blue's Clues_!" Steve cheered, and then started to dance as he sang the victory song. Then his face fell. "BLUE! Did a _thief_ break into the house?"

Blue nodded again, and then ran toward the playroom. Slippery Soap had cleaned up the puddle, and with that and the books out of the way, Steve could hear a faint voice coming from beneath the bookcase. 

"Let's get this out of the way!" He pushed it back against the wall, where it belonged, and lifted the door to the cellar. 

"Get me out of here!" a wobbly voice said. 

"Who are you?" Steve asked, as he turned on the light and started down the stairs. He saw a scruffy-looking guy in an all-black outfit with a knit beanie on his head. He was holding his head and moved slowly. 

Steve helped him to his feet even though maybe he should be worried. But the guy looked harmless—looked _scared_ , actually, his eyes darting around the room, and he froze up when he saw Blue at the top of the stairs. But Steve led him up, looking at Blue curiously when she frowned at him. Blue was _never_ unfriendly!

Once they were in the room and away from the stairs, the guy started talking. 

"I'm Larry. Larry Li— Larry Malone. I came to rob the place but I give up. Please, just let me go. I'll never come near this place again." 

"Hi Larr— you came to _rob_ my house? WHY? I don't have anything worth stealing!"

"You rich guys always think that!"

"I'm not rich!" Steve had no idea why anyone would think he was rich. 

"Tell that to the kids last Halloween. You gave them gold coins!"

Steve looked at him like he must be crazy. "I gave them… _chocolate_ coins."

"Wrapped in _real gold!_ " 

"...Oh. Those, um. Came from thelandofgreatdiscovery…" Steve's voice trailed off as he realized he should perhaps have been more careful. He'd just wanted to share some of the "gold at the end of the rainbow" with friends! 

"I don't care where they came from. And right now, I don't even care if you have more of them. Pleeaaaze just let me leave! I want to get away from this weird house and its moving furniture and the weird paintings full of _bears_ and…"

"Paintings full of… oh! Did you meet our friends, the Bears? Baby Bear, Mama Bear, Papa Bear?"

"Your _friends?_ I didn't stick around to 'meet' them; they're _bears!_ " 

Steve was affronted. "They're very friendly bears!"

"If you say so, buddy. Look, I just want to leave!" 

"Not until you help clean up this mess! My whole house is wrecked!" 

Blue glared at him. Larry whimpered, but realized that "clean up the house" was probably better than "go to prison," so he spent the evening picking up clothes and toys, straightening out furniture, and scrubbing countertops until the whole house was back in order.

Larry couldn't fix the broken table, but Steve assured him that accidents happen sometimes and they'd get it replaced. Steve said they knew a carpenter who lived near the shoemaker in one of their storybooks, and they'd talk to him about it. Larry shuddered as he realized Steve meant he'd just… jump into the book, like he'd jumped into the painting.

As they finished cleaning, moving from room to room and straightening out whatever Larry had knocked over while chasing Blue, Larry got edgy. (Blue glaring at him didn't help.) This was it, the point where Steve called the cops on him, or pushed him back into the basement, or fed him to his pet bears or whatever. Larry looked around for a way out, but really, only the front door and window were big enough, and the mailbox was close enough to the window that he didn't think he could jump through it quickly.

"Now," Steve said, as they finished, and Larry jumped a bit. "I guess we're about done."

"Right. Done. I'm… I'm very sorry, so I'll be leaving now and I promise I will _never come back_ …" 

"Well. That's… good, I guess?" said Steve. "But I don't think it's a good idea to just… let someone get back to stealing things from other people." 

Of course not, thought Larry. 

"So we're going to need you to promise not to do that anymore," Steve continued.

"Uh. What?"

"You have to promise me," Steve started, but then Blue barked at him. "You have to promise me _and Blue_ that you're not going to be a thief anymore."

"Well, what the f— what else am I going to do?" Larry said automatically. Something told him that swearing around Steve was a bad idea.

"Well, you're pretty good at cleaning houses—you could get a job doing that!" 

Larry looked at him flatly. "I am not getting a job as a housecleaner." 

"Okay. Oh, I know—you have lockpicks You could get a job as a locksmith! And help people when they get locked out of their homes!" 

"Uh. That's a job?" 

"Sure. Making keys for people, unlocking doors or cars when they've lost their keys—lots of people need that kind of help!" 

"I guess they do," Larry agreed. At this point, Larry would've agreed to pretty much anything to get out of here.

"Okay, so… you can look for a job as a locksmith. If you need help, I know someone who—"

"No thanks!" Larry cut him off. "No help needed. I, um, have some friends of my own."

"Okay, great! So: No more stealing, and you'll look for a job as a locksmith, right?"

"Sure, kid."

Blue growled softly.

"And um. Sure, dog. Blue." Larry gave her a weak smile. She narrowed her eyes, but stopped growling.

Steve walked him to the door and shook his hand. "It was… very interesting meeting you, Larry. I look forward to hearing about your new job!"

"Th-thanks," Larry said. He was _definitely_ never coming back here or speaking to this guy again.

"Bau bau bau!" said Blue, and hopped up to tap the back of his hand, leaving a tiny blue pawprint on his wrist.

Larry yanked his hand away from Steve's. "What was that?"

"Oh, that's just Blue saying goodbye. And look—she left her pawprint on you, so she can find you again!"

"WHAT?"

"All her friends have a mark—see, here's mine!" Steve pulled his sleeve back and pushed his watch to the side, and showed Larry a tiny blue pawprint inked just above his wrist, like a tattoo. Larry would never have noticed it if he hadn't been seeing Blue's pawprints all over the house. While Larry looked back and forth between the mark on Steve's wrist and the mark on his own, Steve kept talking. "That way, Blue can always find you. If you ever need help, just let her know! It's a great way for her friends to keep in touch. She can basically go anywhere in the world that has one of her pawprints!"

And now Larry had one on his wrist. Looked like he was going to find a new career, whether he wanted one or not.


End file.
